


Bridges

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [12]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Chocolate Syrup, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Prostitution, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s becoming awfully hard to keep his voice completely neutral, what with his brother so clearly itching for a fight. For something. Whatever it is, Thor knows he doesn’t want to deliver.</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Westward and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Therapy is scary.

"Now, once we really get down to business," their new joint counselor - she's a doctor, a PhD, but she's assured them they can call her Ginny _if that feels more comfortable_ \- explains, "I may well end up laying down some ground rules. Nothing too draconian," she says, smiling, as she tucks a spare pencil into her bun. "Just a few straightforward things, to make sure both of you have the chance to be heard. But for now," she continues, portfolio open and pen at the ready, "it will be helpful for me to watch the two of you interact naturally. Well, as naturally as anyone can in a therapist's office," she adds with another pleasant smile.

She looks to each of them in turn, open and attentive. Thor can't get over how put-together she is, crisp and businesslike in a sharply-cut suit, heels and black-framed glasses. He feels sloppy, like he showed up to court in a t-shirt and shorts.

He tries to make eye contact with his brother, but Loki is watching Ginny with his best polite, expectant expression.

The one that says he's ready to shut down - or blow up - on a moment's notice.

Thor can't help but think he might like a few of those ground rules now, please and thank you.

"So," Dr. Ginny says brightly, "if it's okay with both of you, I'd like to ask you some questions. Right now, I’m just looking for some basic background information. In most cases, if something merits further discussion, we can table it and come back to it later on. Loki?"

Loki dips his head.

"Of course," Thor says when it's his turn.

"The two of you were raised as siblings, and Loki is adopted, correct?"

That's easy enough. "Yes and yes," Thor says promptly.

"And your relationship is sexual," she confirms.

"And how," Loki says, grinning a little dangerously.

"Among other things," Thor clarifies, feeling defensive. Embarrassed. "Will that be a problem?" Loki snickers; Thor pointedly ignores his brother, on the off chance that might somehow make him behave.

Not that it ever has before, but a guy can hope.

"Not for me, no," Ginny assures him. Them. "I have worked successfully with a number of incestuous couples throughout my career. Has your relationship always been consensual?"

"Of course," Thor tells her, just as Loki says _No._ "Loki," he exclaims, startled, whipping around to look his brother in the face.

"It hasn't been one hundred percent of the time," Loki insists, glaring at Thor. "It hasn’t! Are we talking overall here, Ginny, or precisely," he asks, leveling one last dirty look at Thor before turning back to face the doctor instead.

"Either," she says, writing neatly on her pad. "Or both. It’s entirely up to you."

"Mostly, then," Loki sums up, not looking back at Thor. One of the muscles in his cheek is twitching.

"Thank you," she says, still cheerful, as though they’re discussing the weather. "And what are your living arrangements?"

This time, Thor makes the conscious choice to let Loki go first. "We live together," his brother tells her, "in an apartment."

"We lived together before we moved here, too," Thor adds once it’s clear his brother is done for now. It feels like an important thing to convey; he has no idea why.

"And how do you portray yourselves," Ginny asks. "Maybe _describe_ would be a better word," she offers when neither if them responds.

Loki laughs. "Since we moved here, we are pretty openly sexual," he says. "Back home Thor here was a little too worried about _What People Might Think,_ " he says, continuing on before Thor can do more than huff, "but here we don't know anyone he worries might care."

"That's interesting," she says, "but it’s not quite what I meant to ask. Let me give you an example: Do you tell people you're dating? Married?"

"Dating," Thor says quickly. He only says _married_ using his inside voice. He’s not even sure he wants to hear what his brother might choose.

"Loki," Ginny prompts.

Loki bares his teeth in a gesture only a stranger - and an incautious one at that - might mistake for friendly. "I don't. I climb all over him," he explains, looking briefly at Thor, challenging, "and let people draw their own conclusions."

"Mm," she acknowledges. She makes a few more quick notes before proceeding. "Thor, have you lived alone?"

_Not by choice,_ he thinks. "Yes," he says instead, "from time to time."

"And you," she asks Loki.

"Does solitary count?"

"Beg pardon," she says, eyebrows up only just the slightest bit.

"I've been in solitary confinement," Loki says nastily, ticking off on one long finger. It's a gesture Thor hasn't seen his brother make in a while, one he hasn’t missed for that matter, and it can’t be easy or comfortable with the cast on. "And in a straightjacket and a good old padded room." _Tick_. "Oh, and I've had _no fixed abode;_ I believe that's the preferred euphemism these days." _Tick_ “I was homeless,” he says to Thor, condescending.

“Yes, thank you, I got that,” Thor tells him a little icily. It’s becoming awfully hard to keep his voice completely neutral, what with his brother so clearly itching for a fight. For something. Whatever it is, Thor knows he doesn’t want to deliver.

“Oh, oh,” Loki exclaims loudly, ticking off on his little finger. “I missed one. My dear brother is far, far freer with his money than was our- was _his_ father. My adoptive father. So I had a nice expensive single room in fancy-ass residential treatment. I’m a recovering addict,” he points out unnecessarily, with another one of those megawatt smiles that are more like grimaces.

“Recover _ed_ ,” Thor corrects, even though he probably shouldn’t. The other choice of terms upsets him

“Recover _ING_ ,” Loki says. “You have no fucking idea.” He’s not even fake-smiling now. “No. Fucking. Idea.”

Dr. Ginny somehow neatly defuses things without it feeling like a smack-down. “And when did you move in together?”

Thor forgets he was planning to once again wait his turn. “A while ago now,” he starts to say, just as his brother says _when he bought me off my pimp._

He can’t help his sharp little gasp. “ _Loki!_ ”

“Well, you _did_ ,” Loki protests. “You bought me and brought me home and kept me as a pet until I had to be shipped off to treatment.”

Just like that, Thor goes from embarrassed and irritated to horrified. His eyes well up. The tears sting. “That’s not _true,_ Loki! You were never my- my-.” He can’t even say it. “I love you. I loved you then. I was just so happy to have you back. To know you were alive.”

“Lovely sentiment, but it doesn’t change a thing,” his brother says, staring him down, defiant. It’s crushing.

“If it’s okay with both of you,” Ginny interjects, “this is something I’d suggest we table and come back to. Loki?”

“There’s really nothing to discuss,” Loki says coldly, “but, fine. Whatever.”

“Thor? Are you okay setting this aside for now?”

He’s not quite sure what’s going on, really. “I’d rather- um. Sure, that’s fine,” he concedes, just to say something.

“If it’s not okay with you, you can say so,” she offers, setting her pen down.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, more firmly this time. “Go ahead, ask your next question.”

She nods. “If you don’t mind,” she says, looking directly at him, not unkindly, “I’d like to ask your brother a few things.”

She says _brother_. Most of their therapists have shied away from that.

“I don’t mind,” he says, when he really means something more along the lines of _I’m not sure if I mind yet; I won’t know until my brother finishes talking._

“Thank you. Loki,” she starts, turning to his brother, “if I ask you anything you’d rather not answer in front of Thor, just tell me. We’ll move on. Okay?”

Thor looks over at his brother. “Actually, it’s more fun when I can see his reaction,” Loki says, but nothing about his expression matches up to his words, or his tone. _Oh._ Okay, something is going on.

“I’m asking you these things in order to get to know you a little better,” Ginny says. Her tone isn’t reproachful, exactly, but she’s not smiling now. If it was _him_ Thor would feel like he’d _gotten in trouble._ “This isn’t about attacking your brother.”

“To each his own,” Loki says, shrugging. “ _Her_ own.”

She picks her pen back up. “Are you an active addict?” Thor’s whole body tenses.

But: “No,” Loki says flatly. “I’m clean right now. And I’m still in day treatment,” he volunteers, “but you probably know that.”

“And how did you break your arm,” she asks.

“I fell down the stairs. Trying to do the laundry,” he adds, laughing mirthlessly. “It’s a good thing I’m hot because I sure am fucking useless.”

Thor once again forgets himself for a moment. “You are _NOT_ useless,” he blurts out.

Dr. Ginny turns to him. “While that’s nice of you, Thor, I’d rather we let Loki answer the questions without interrupting or challenging. Can you do that for me?”

He’s not sure. He nods anyway.

“Are you suicidal?” _Oh fuck oh fuck oh no._

“No,” Loki says, and Thor lets out a loud exhalation. “Not right now, I mean.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” she says. “One last question for you: Do you feel like coming here – to my office, I mean, not your recent move – might be helpful to you?”

Loki picks at the edge of his cast, looking much younger and more afraid than he did even two minutes ago. “I don’t know.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she says. “Thor,” she continues, turning to him, “do _you_ feel like coming here will be helpful?”

He doesn’t miss the subtle change in wording, although he opts not to mention it. “I’m not sure either,” he tells her, “but I very much hope so.”

~

“What was that about,” he asks his brother once they’re back in the car. He doesn’t want to argue; he’s genuinely curious. Genuinely fucking terrified, too. When did therapy get so frightening?

Loki just shrugs. “She wanted to get to know me. Ta da.”

“I didn’t buy you.”

“Oh, brother, I must beg to differ,” his brother says, in a tone of voice Thor can’t quite place. “You yourself told me otherwise.”

Ugh. He barely remembers even having that conversation. “I was upset,” he tells Loki. “I don’t always mean the things I say when I’m angry.”

“Be that as it may,” his brother says quietly, “it’s not like I can just unhear them.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor does the hard thing. He's not sure if the world will implode.

_He bought me off my pimp._

Now that the phrase – disturbing and sad – has gotten into his head, Thor can't for the life of him get it back out. Not just the words themselves, although they’re bad enough; more so the certainty with which Loki’d uttered them. If he pushes himself Thor can remember quite a few things from that time, none of them pretty, but- he never _bought_ his brother.

More to the point, he never intended to leave Loki feeling that way.

~

He lies awake a lot of the night thinking about it.

He had tried to engage Loki in conversation about it over dinner, unsuccessfully. While they hadn't fought, and the evening had ended on a reasonably happy note - with Thor on his knees at Loki's feet, for once, because he couldn't shake the dirty, guilty feeling even close enough to adequately to put his brother on the floor instead - Loki had politely dodged the whole topic.

Every feeble attempt Thor’d made… well, each one had slid right off Loki like his brother had been coated with Teflon.

Ultimately it somehow hadn’t seemed right to really push on the whole thing, harder, considering the subject matter. Thor had reluctantly let it drop.

~

The next morning, consequently, it's still eating at him.

"I didn't buy Loki," he tells his therapist at lunchtime. "I paid off his debt, so he could leave."

"Did he want to leave?"

"Of cou-." He stops. He really doesn't know, now that he thinks about it. "I- I'm not sure. Even if he’d wanted to stay, though, I don't think we could have left him there safely. Not after his dealer realized we- my" - _former,_ he grants himself but doesn't say - "friend and I knew where Loki was. The guy knew me, you see,” he clarifies. It’s rather silly terminology to use when talking on the phone, sure. Still. He feels like he has to explain. And explain. Over and over.

"The two of you have never discussed it?" His therapist’s voice is friendly, warm and neutral, but Thor feels guilty nonetheless.

Because, of course, they haven't. He shakes his head at the phone. "No. He shies away from this stuff and- and I don’t bring it up either because it makes me feel pretty shitty." Well, the first part of that is not entirely true. "He does occasionally throw it out there,” Thor corrects himself, “that- that we- we kind of had sex without his... um... permission. The first time after he came home."

"Is Loki's perception of that accurate," the therapist asks. He still doesn't sound judgmental. Of course, he never does. He doesn’t have to.

"I'm not- I'm not sure," Thor stammers. He isn't. "It wasn't about that."

"Can you tell me what it was about," his therapist prompts when he doesn't continue.

Thinking back through all of this stuff is nauseating. "I- I was marking my territory, basically," he says. "That's pretty awful, isn't it?"

"How did Loki feel about it," the social worker asks, without offering an opinion. “At the time; right after it happened. Do you remember?”

Thor strains to think back – in detail - to that fateful, awful evening. An overwhelming scent memory of- of Malekith bubbles up and almost gags him. "He- I think he was fucking the guy who killed our mother. He smelled like him, when we got back to my apartment.” He’s not even sure why he’s talking about this part. “I apologized," he adds when the therapist says nothing, "and- and I remember him saying I didn't have to be sorry." He swallows down a mouthful of saliva and wills himself not to vomit. "But I was," he repeats. "I was sorry. I- ugh, I _am_ sorry."

"Have you told Loki that? Recently, I mean?"

He hasn't. "We just don't talk about it," he says, once again. "Any of it. Normally I don't even think about it." He shudders. "And when I do it makes me sick. Why is that?"

The social worker doesn't respond right away. "When we act outside our own integrity," he says, finally, "we often have very strong, visceral reactions."

"What does that even _mean_ ," Thor snaps, suddenly exasperated, right out of nowhere. Sometimes he still wonders if Loki is really the crazy one.

"I want you to stop here for just a moment," the therapist tells him evenly, rather than reacting to his outburst, "and check in with yourself. What are you feeling?"

_Angry. Filthy. Sick. Afraid._ "Confused," he finally settles on. "Confused in a way that feels really bad."

"And how does that feel physically, in your body?"

Thor thinks about that a little bit before replying. "I'm shaking. I could puke without half trying. Or cry."

"Is there anything your body wants to do right this second?"

_Flee._ "It wants to hang up on you," he tells his therapist, laughing a little even though nothing about this feels anywhere near funny. But there’s no point in running away; he’s been doing it forever, and the only place it’s gotten him is here. “I won’t, though,” he assures the social worker, voice serious again. “I really do want to work through this.”

~

Saturday is lovely, the perfect day for a picnic. While the park is more crowded this time, they find a suitable spot – partly shaded, overlooking the duck pond - without any real trouble. Loki roots through the basket as Thor spreads a blanket neatly over the ground.

"Do you remember much of- of your time with Malekith's people," Thor asks once they’re both settled, as casually as he can. "After- after jail, I mean." It isn’t quite what he intended to say. Hopefully it will do.

Loki doesn't look up from where he's picking at a loose thread along the edge of the picnic blanket. "They're really more like _Thanos'_ people," he corrects. "Malekith thinks he's a Big Deal because he's been around since practically the beginning of time, but," he continues easily, mouth quirking into an odd little smile, "Thanos would beg to differ, I imagine. Anyway, yes, I remember most everything, I think." He finally shoots a quick glance at Thor, who is trying his best to to look neutrally interested, before concentrating on the blanket again. "Except the night I was shot. I don't remember much of that evening, even before it happened... and I think they told me I lost a couple of weeks afterwards, too. That's probably good, you know?"

Loki's loose, unbuttoned henley has slid all the way off one shoulder. Thor reaches over and lightly traces the top border of the scar. "Yeah, probably." He clears his throat. "Look, I've been- I've been talking about this with my shrink" - it's not his favorite term, but it's the one Loki seems to prefer and right now he only wishes to help his brother feel comfortable - "and I- I want to tell you I'm sorry. Because I am. Sorry, I mean,” he finishes, feeling tongue-tied and graceless.

Loki shifts onto his hip, letting the edge of the blanket drop back onto the grass, and twists to face Thor. His brows pinch together in what looks like puzzlement. "Well, thank you?" His voice rises slightly, as though it's a question. “But for what, exactly?"

This is where it gets shitty. "For the way I treated you when I brought you home,” Thor explains. “I should never have- have fucked you" - no point in trying to pretty it up now; it’s just plain ugly, and it might as well sound that way - "without asking first. In fact," he adds, voice catching, "I probably shouldn't even have _asked_ and done it, even with your agreement, under the circumstances."

Loki shrugs. "It was what I expected from you. From _us_ ," he clarifies, likely reacting to the shocked, shamed expression Thor knows he hasn’t quite stopped himself from making. "And to be perfectly honest I was pretty much a living blow-up doll at that point anyway. At least you brought some genuine caring."

"That's awful," Thor tells his brother, because it really, really is.

Loki shrugs again. He traces the first two fingers of his casted hand along the wrinkled seam of Thor's jeans, up by the knee. "It was my reality, back then. I don’t bother looking at it in terms of good and bad."

He has no response for that. "Well," he says instead, " _present me_ is sorry for what _past me_ did to you. Without asking. Very, very sorry," he stresses. The language of therapy galls him sometimes – he feels like he’s back in preschool, actually – but evidently he lacks any better way to explain his feelings.

Maybe it’s for the best anyway; Loki snorts. His fingers are still worrying idly at the heavy denim seam. "Now you sound like you're the one in day treatment," he teases. “That aside, again, thank you," he adds, more politely.

"But…" Thor throws it out there, because he can just _feel_ there's more.

"Busted, huh?" Loki smiles crookedly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "You read me far, far too well these days, brother. Fine: _But_ I've always wondered - why then?" He isn’t smiling anymore.

_Huh?_ "Why what, when?" Thor asks, feeling stupid.

"Why then? Why that day?" Loki frowns slightly. "Why did you choose that day to finally come for me? If you were going to come for me at all, I mean. What made that day special?"

It still doesn't quite compute but Thor is starting to see flashes of the train's headlight against the walls of the tunnel. "I came almost as soon as Fandral" - saying _that asshole's_ name in front of Loki feels completely wrong, but he has to get his point across somehow - "told me he'd seen you." He squints up at the white, fluffy clouds for a second, thinking. "All I did in between was find Sif, because she had- well, the better car for the job."

"Huh," Loki says quietly, turning his head to look across the pond.

"Seriously," Thor assures his brother. "It was maybe an hour, tops? I don't think it was even that long." And then it finally hits him. "Wait, you thought I- you think I _knew?_ "

Loki doesn't shrug this time. "I wasn't exactly hiding," he says flatly. "And Fandral found me pretty much as soon as I was back on the street. If nothing else I figured he would have told you. You know – that he’d seen me around, in the event you hadn't known where I was already. Not the sex part, obviously, since that unleashes your inner demon, but at least about- well, that he knew where I could be found."

"He didn't," Thor says tightly. There are a billion conflicting things whirling in his head and he doesn't dare let any single solitary one of them out.

"Huh," Loki says again.

Thor watches his brother reach into the picnic basket and grab a strawberry. As Loki brings the ripe, red fruit to his mouth Thor has to look away.

The longer he thinks and feels, the less he trusts himself to speak. Finally Thor gives up and flops down on the grass, hard, barely wincing as his head hits the ground. He throws one arm over his eyes, telling himself it's just to ward against the bright summery sky, and lies quietly... trying his best not to fly into a thousand jagged pieces.

He's not sure how long he rests there beforehand but, at some length, Loki lies carefully down beside him. His brother fits himself neatly against Thor's side and threads long, cool fingers into his warm, sticky ones.

"I'm glad you came for me," Loki whispers, lips brushing the shell of Thor's ear

Thor shivers. "I'm sorry," he offers again. "For a lot of things. Not that, of course, but a lot of things." Right now, that’s really all he can safely say.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes sex - even slightly kinky sex - just comes easier to Thor than does talking. Mostly.

“Do you mind,” he asks a little breathlessly as Loki’s cast clips him in the face for the third time, “if I secure your hands?”

His brother nods, which is sort of a non-answer, and then manages “go ahead.”

Thor reaches up and touches the side of Loki’s face gently, to keep from startling his brother, and then hitches the blindfold out of the way with one thumb. “Are you sure,” he asks as Loki looks up at him with one green eye. “I don’t want to hurt your wrist.”

Loki smiles, mouth and eye and all. “It’s fine,” he pants. “Just use- the cast- and not my- fingers. It’ll be fine,” he reiterates. “I promise.”

~

It takes quite a bit of rooting around in the box, during which time Thor’s own erection flags a bit and Loki – covered head to toe in sticky drizzled trails of chocolate syrup and not even a fifth of the way licked clean – writhes and grumbles on the towels they spread over top of their blankets. Ultimately, though, Thor does come up with some leather strapping he thinks he can make work.

And a soft cuff for Loki’s uninjured wrist.

Oh, and cuffs for his ankles, too, as a preventative measure… otherwise – with both hands restrained – his brother might well take to swinging his feet around instead.

“What the fuck is taking you so long,” Loki growls just as Thor slides the box back under the bed. “You didn’t tell me you had to find a cow, butcher it, and tan its hide.”

Thor laughs. “Shh,” he soothes, crawling up to the head of the bed and planting a gentle kiss on his brother’s forehead. “I can’t help it that I’m not quite as creative in these- these sports as you are. Now hold nice and still for me and we can get back down to business.”

~

He’s always careful to tell himself they bought this new bedframe because they liked the way the iron headboard and footboard looked against the black metal railings of the balcony.

Just as long as he doesn’t think back to Loki in the store, slender hand gripping one of the decorative vines curling through the headboard, leaning back to pull with most of his weight and practically cooing “mmm, sturdy,” Thor can almost convince himself that’s true.

The salesperson sure had smirked, though, especially when Loki sprawled spread-eagled atop the mattress, grinning. “Perfect,” his brother had pronounced it. To be completely honest, not flopping down on top of him right there in the store had proved far more difficult than it’d had any right to be.

Whatever the original truth, Thor does have to admit the bedframe is fast proving itself both decorative and functional.

~

Loki tugs experimentally on his restraints, then wriggles. “Nice.” Unlike Thor, he’s still completely hard, chocolate-syrup-striped cock resting proudly against his equally chocolaty belly.

He’s beautiful. Literally good enough to eat. Thor grins. “Good, I’m glad you approve. Now, let’s see. Where were we?”

~

Loki moans as Thor mouths along his brother’s collarbone, licking and sucking the dips and crests of pale skin clean of sticky-sweet chocolate. As he makes his way down Loki’s sternum and across each rib, one at a time – slowly, thoroughly, smiling to himself at his brother’s writhing and curse-littered whining – Thor settles into a comfortable, mindless rhythm. Loki tastes good and feels good, all warm smoothness under his mouth. It’s relaxing. Hypnotic, even.

He doesn’t really realize he’s managed to lull himself into a bit of a trance until – when he wraps his tongue neatly around one of Loki’s nipples – his brother bucks up hard against him with a sharp cry that’s almost a bark. “You like that, do you,” Thor asks against Loki’s chest, and then closes his teeth gently.

“Oh, fuck,” Loki breathes, tensing sharply. “More.”

“More of this,” Thor asks, licking a wet circle around his brother’s nipple as Loki groans, “or of this?” He bites again, quite a bit harder.

Loki shrieks, tugging at his restraints. 

Thor kneels up. For a long tense moment he isn’t anywhere close to knowing whether his brother’s reaction meant _good_ or _bad;_ he fights the urge to lift the blindfold again and check for himself…

…because he knows – from what’s unfortunately quickly becoming considerable past experience; this stuff makes Thor nervous, it does! – Loki _hates_ it ( _I’m a grown-up, you know,_ his brother invariably snarls. _If I need a break I will ask for one_ ) when he stops to check in right in the middle of things.

Finally Loki lets out a long, whistling breath. “Oh god. More of both. _Lots_ more of both,” he clarifies, shuddering. “Please.”

_Thank god._ Thor smiles a wobbly, slightly teary smile, one he’s very glad his brother can’t see. “Well, then,” he starts in, hoping his rough voice sounds like _sex_ and not like cowardice, “I think you need more chocolate.”

The bottle is slippery with condensation; fresh out of the refrigerator when they’d started, its tasty contents are still far colder than the room. Thor holds it high above his brother’s chest, for maximum splatter, and squeezes.

Loki yips and flails as the syrup hits him. “Oh shit,” he says, laughing a little, “that stuff is _freezing._ ”

Thor laughs with him, feeling a hundred times better. “Isn’t that the point?” He sets the bottle down and leans in to lick a broad, wet strip up his brother’s goose-bump-covered chest. “Plus, I like what it does for the scenery,” he adds, and then stops to suck hard on Loki’s nipple. “And you taste nice,” he points out as his brother tugs the restraints again, moaning. “Very, very nice,” he rasps against Loki’s skin, licking more and more sloppily until he’s pretty much just rubbing his wet, stubbly face around in the mess.

“Clamps,” Loki wheezes, startling Thor out of an increasingly lust-fueled daze.

“What?” His brain just isn’t working.

“Clamps,” Loki repeats a little more clearly. “In the box. Nipple clamps,” he clarifies. “That way you can be everywhere at once.”

Thor shakes his head to clear it, laughing at the way his hair sticks all over his chocolate-spit-sweat-covered face. “Wait. I thought I was supposed to be the one in charge here?”

“I can’t help it that you’re so _bad_ at it,” Loki whines.

“ _Bad_ ,” Thor says, imitating Loki. “We could stop, you know.” He kneels up again, laughing, wobbling a little on the bed as his brother thrashes around.

“Oh, fuck, no,” Loki exclaims. “You’re fine. What was I thinking?” But then he laughs. “Still, the clamps?”

“Brat.” Thor wipes his hands on one of the towels, as best he can, and scoots to the side of the box. “Since I’m _so bad at this,_ will I even recognize _nipple clamps_ when I see them?”

His brother snorts. “Oh, please. Don’t even.”

In reality, he knows there is quite a good selection of the odd little things in here. He’s tested some on his pinkies – all in the name of science, when Loki was safely off at day treatment – and determined that certain varieties hurt quite a bit more than others. Because- well, because _Loki is Loki,_ after all, he selects a pair that’d felt pretty much like little finger-sized cigar cutters.

~

He shouldn’t be so surprised, really, that it turns out to be a Really Good Idea.

There’s quite a bit of whining and complaining initially, as Thor takes his time licking and nipping Loki’s nipples back into stiff points. Once the first clamp goes on, though, accompanied by a harsh gasp from his brother, the talking is over.

It takes Thor a little while to adjust – the delicate silver things _look_ pretty against his brother’s pink, chocolate-smeared flesh, sure; he’s just not sure he can quite get past how much he knows they _hurt_ \- but in the end he manages. Within a few minutes he’s adding more chocolate and licking around the shiny things like a champ.

Actually working up sufficient nerve to pull the chain, though, takes a while longer. When Thor finally does muster the courage, his brother’s reaction – arching up off the bed completely with a ragged cry, body searching desperately for something, anything against which to rut – provides more than enough encouragement to continue.

For who knows how long – no one is really keeping track, after all; they have better things to do – the action stalls there, with Thor lavishing wet attention on his brother’s ribcage and tugging the chain now and then as he goes… and Loki bucking and squirming and making wordless sounds hot enough to set the room afire.

Eventually, though, Thor takes pity on his brother – he tells himself it’s only that, at least – and works his way markedly less slowly down Loki’s abdomen. “If I undo your feet so I can move your legs,” he pants, “will you promise not to kick me?”

Even though Loki can’t formulate a coherent answer, Thor opts to free both ankles anyway. He folds his brother’s legs up, knees to chest. “Hold still,” he orders. Since he’s in charge and all.

_Holding still_ pretty much doesn’t happen, unsurprisingly. The combination of cold syrup and hot tongue – alternating over and over, balls and anus, as he pumps his brother’s cock with chocolate-slippery fingers - earns Thor a few glancing blows to the head anyway. Truly, he’s so gone by now that he hardly feels it.

And even if he did, the chance to take Loki apart like this would still be more than worth the pain.

Chocolate syrup and his brother’s semen taste better together than Thor would have imagined… except he tries his best not to imagine things like that at all.

~

Afterward, filthy towels sloshing around in the washing machine, the two of them kiss lazily under a warm shower. Loki’s hands slide slowly over the big muscles of Thor’s shoulders and back, finally coming to rest on his hips. Thor jumps, squawking into his brother’s mouth in protest, as Loki runs an experimental finger between his buttocks. “Hey!”

Loki reaches up to smooth Thor’s wet hair back from his face. “What, it’s fine for me but not for you?”

Thor can feel his face heating, not just from the water. “It’s just- I don’t-.”

“Ohhhh. Really?” Loki smiles brightly, but it doesn’t look quite like he’s teasing. “You’ve never tried it? Not even once?”

Thor pulls free and buries his burning face against his brother’s wet shoulder. “No,” he says, voice muffled by Loki’s drippy hair.

“Consider yourself warned, then, brother,” Loki says pleasantly. “Someday I’m going to make sure you do. You do trust me, right?”

He’s still not sure he does, really, especially when it comes to things like this. “I try to,” he says instead, because that’s the honest answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki do a little better at honesty. It hurts.

"How are things going," Sif asks, taking a big bite of her portabella sandwich and gesturing _go on, go on_.

She's started her new job, finally, and looks good. Happy. This move has been good for her.

Good for all of them, really. "Things are-" - he's blushing; he can feel his face burning, and she's going to notice, and there's nothing whatsoever he can do about it - "they're fine," he says, gamely pushing past it. "We're fine. Work is fine. Loki's fine." Thor makes himself stop; even to his own ears he sounds like an idiot.

Sure enough; Sif is laughing. "So, you and Loki have been having lots of sex, eh?"

" _NO,_ " he exclaims hastily, which is of course a lie. "Well, yes,” he confesses instead, “but that's not what I meant." It isn't. "Things really are going well, so far at least. I like my new job. I like this town. Loki's new day treatment place is working out." He spreads his hands wide, palms up. "So far, so good, really. What's not to like?"

"But?" Sit cocks an eyebrow. "Don't try to bullshit me, Thor," she commands when he says nothing. She looks a little closer to worried now, and he feels bad about that. "What's going on?"

He sighs. He never has been able to put much of anything past her, all the way back to high school.

It's probably why they're still friends.

And _NOT_ dating.

"We- Loki and I have found a new couples counselor - Dr. Potts - and she's... well, working with her is bringing a lot of stuff up. Difficult stuff." He scrubs his face with both hands. "I guess it's healthier than keeping it all buried," he tells her, "or at least it will be… but it sure as hell isn't pleasant."

"No," she says, wincing, "I don't suppose it would be. How is Loki holding up?"

Thor pops a sweet potato fry - okay, a few sweet potato fries, but all at the same time so that only counts as one - into his mouth. Chewing gives him a justifiable excuse for silence; it’s the only polite avenue open to him, after all. When he can’t chew anymore, he swallows. _Ugh._ "I think my brother is doing- better, really." He wipes his mouth with a paper napkin. "It's just disturbing. Loki believes things I- I just can't fathom."

Sif frowns. "Things about you," she suggests.

"Kind of," he says quietly. "He remembers his time with Malekith... differently, I guess. He thought I- he thought I knew where he was all along and simply didn't come for him." Thor wipes a tear away against his shirtsleeve; his hands are dangerously salty from the fries. "I can't help but wonder why he's stayed with me, if he believes that kind of thing about- about us. About our relationship." He wipes his eyes again, on his shoulder this time. "I wonder if he's only with me because he's afraid to leave."

~

"How have things been - between you - since our first session," Dr. Ginny asks Loki as the two brothers settle onto her sofa.

"Interesting," Loki says primly. "We had some really good sex over the weekend."

"Loki!" They've barely gotten started and Thor already feels like he needs to clap a hand over his brother's sharp little mouth.

She smiles pleasantly at him. "Thank you for reminding me," she says cheerfully, even though Thor- doesn’t think he did. Thinks he didn’t, even. "I believe I mentioned last time that I might institute a simple rule here and there if needed."

Thor nods. Loki does as well, after hesitating just long enough to make his annoyance obvious.

"Thank you," Dr. Ginny says again. She is nothing if not unfailingly polite. "It's very important that you – each of you, both of you – can not only speak but be heard," she tells them, looking from one to the other and back. "In order to foster an environment in which that can happen, I must ask you not to interrupt one another. In turn, whenever it's safe to do so - and by _safe_ ," she clarifies, "I mean not likely to seriously escalate an argument - I will give each of you ample time to respond." She opens her portfolio. "Can you do that for me, Thor?"

Pointedly ignoring Loki's derisive little snort, Thor nods. "I will do my best," he offers.

"Good," she says. "And Loki, that applies to you as well. I realize a lot of your mannerisms are so ingrained that they come to you almost without thinking," she tells his brother, and Thor can't help but wonder if she knows those are normally fighting words, "but I'd really appreciate it if you tried to dial the non-verbal sarcasm down just a little."

"Well, if he wasn't so-," Loki starts, hotly, and then shakes his head as he evidently thinks the better of it. "Okay," he says instead. "I'll try."

"Thank you both. If we can stick to this, it will make things a lot easier for all of us. Loki, do you have any other observations you'd like to make about your past few days together?"

Thor expects his brother to say something offensive, to try and make him test the new rule. He braces for it, telling himself sternly to keep quiet _no matter what comes out of Loki’s mouth_. He can do this. "Well, Thor and I talked some more about the night he came for me," Loki says, voice surprisingly serious, and even braced Thor barely manages to conceal his surprise. "It seems we were both laboring under some false assumptions."

"Such as," she prompts when Loki stalls out and doesn’t continue.

"I had always assumed that he knew I was alive," he tells her, picking at the chipped black polish on his left thumbnail – with the cast on he can’t paint them, and Thor just isn’t up to volunteering – "and that he- well, that he knew where I was."

She makes a quick note. "Do you remember how you felt about that," she asks, and Thor isn't sure if she meant this week or at the time. _Maybe she's leaving the whole thing open on purpose,_ he thinks, _to see how Loki will take it._ He’s certainly curious.

"It was about what I expected," Loki offers, and for a moment Thor isn't sure _when_ his brother means. "He'd made it pretty clear he didn't want anything to do with me."

"Can you try reframing that last part in terms of yourself," she suggests, looking quickly at Thor (who is trying really, really, really hard not to butt in and come to his own defense) before focusing back in on his brother.

Loki rolls his eyes. "Sorry, sorry," he tells the doctor. "Old habits. Um. Thor really didn’t visit me often, in the asylum or in jail. And on the rare occasion he did visit, our conversations - if you can call them that -," he adds, shifting against the pillows, "felt strained to me. Forced. As though he was uncomfortable in my presence." He stops for a moment, swallowing loudly, and Thor suddenly feels a whole lot more like crying than like arguing. "So it really didn't surprise me that he wouldn't want me around once I was back on the street." 

“Thank you for rephrasing that,” she says. "And Thor, thank you for waiting until your brother finished.” He nods. “Now, I know you’ve said you don’t always remember things easily. Do you think you can explain why you acted uncomfortable," she asks him, looking at him with polite expectation.

She is both too easy and too difficult to talk to. "I do remember why, yes," Thor tells her, stalling. It doesn't help; even his ears are turning red. "Loki," he starts in, opting to offer this one directly up to his brother instead, "it wasn't that I didn't want you around. It wasn’t that at all. I was- I didn't know what to do with my feelings for you, and seeing you _like that_ \- it was too much for me."

"Seeing your brother like what," Dr. Ginny asks pleasantly, as though this is somehow nice and easy. It isn’t. Loki is still looking at his thumbnail, rather than at Thor; maybe, then, it’s not easy for either of them.

Thor has to cover his face with his hands. "Naked, in a straightjacket, if you must know."

"You hated me," Loki protests before she can stop him. "Sorry."

Thor takes a deep breath. "It's okay, Ginny," he assures her, looking up at her over the tips of his own fingers. "No, Loki,” he corrects quietly, “I hated myself. I just _blamed_ you."


End file.
